Ethan Lloyd and the Year of the Refugees
by Eustace Scrubb
Summary: As Ethan begins his 3rd year at Kaaterskill Academy, the wizarding world is rent by conflict: Death Eaters control the British ministry; many muggle-borns flee to America, where not all welcome them; one infamous fugitive doggedly pursues Ethan-but why?.
1. Chapter 1 : a Fool in the Storm

Ethan Lloyd

and the

Year of the Refugees

**(Year Three at Kaaterskill)**

"Numquam Fidete Equite

Capite Carens**"**

"_**Who can tell when he sets forth to wander, **_

_**whether he may be driven by the uncertain currents of existence, **_

_**or whether it may ever be his lot to revisit the scenes of his childhood?**_**"**

**-Washington Irving, "The Voyage," **_**The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.**_

Chapter One:

A Fool in the Storm

_August 1, 1997_

Inky black darkness enveloped the walls of Azkaban as the clock passed midnight. Cold North Sea waves crashed against the rocky cliffs far below.

Three men men stood shivering on a patch of open ground just outside the iron gates of the prison. Two wore heavy cloaks and held lit wands in their hands. Between them, the third man stood restrained in a strait jacket. Back bent, head bowed, he wore tattered clothes and an expression somewhere between curious and crazed. Long, matted hair that might once have been blonde covered his head and an unkempt beard his face.

"Blimey, Sanders, why did the Yanks have to pick this time to transfer their bloody prisoner?" asked one of the sentinels.

"Jiggered if I know, Whitney," the other guard said. "Orders from the top: Exham to be shipped to Autongamon at midnight. Can't say I know what he's still doing here anyhow. They broke all of his buddies out months ago and somehow he got left behind."

"Maybe they didn't think any Yank could be pure enough for 'em," said Whitney. "I won't be sorry to see him go, just the same. He's been actin' up ever since the Dementors defected. He's as dangerous as any of them, I guess."

The prisoner turned his head suddenly towards Whitney, his shock of greasy hair waving in the breeze, his eyes glinting dangerously. Whitney caught his glance and shivered as he turned away.

"I'd like to know why they couldn't just get a special certificate and apparate with him," Sanders said. "It's a fool's errand to carry him anywhere on a broom in this weather."

"Well, tell me now, how'd you like to go side-along with him?" asked Whitney. "Bad enough to have to look at him."

At this the prisoner gave a whoop and giggled crazily to himself. "Kaater-Kaater-Kaaterskill, that's where Ethan is," he muttered in sing-song.

"Wrong again, Exham," Sanders spat. "Azkaban's where you are and you'll not be seeing Kaaterskill any time soon."

Exham seemed not to hear; he coughed and said to no one in particular, "Doomed! Doomed I am for a certain term to walk the night, 'til my foul crimes be purged."

As Exham dissolved once again into childish laughter, Whitney pointed out to sea.

"There they are, Sanders!" he exclaimed. Not far from the walls of the prison, five points of light appeared. As they moved closer the guards could make out five figures hunched over brooms, coursing through the sea spray and mist.

Exham looked up and cried out, "Angels and ministers of grace defend us! To what issue will this come?"

"Stop your babbling!" Sanders said sharply as the visitors touched down. Now they could see that there were 6 American aurors, 4 on normal brooms and two on a most unusually large broom.

The newcomers approached, a tall, square-shouldered wizard at their head. He stopped before Sanders and Whitney, casting a wary eye at the prisoner.

"Auror Squad Leader Eldredge at your service," he said. "Reporting for prisoner transport."

"Guard Captain Sanders at yours. This here is Whitney, Night Shift Leader. Pleasant trip, was it?"

"I'd hardly say that," Eldredge confessed. "Then again, you wouldn't want it to be too easy to get out here, would you?"

He glanced quickly at Exham, then said, "Well, let's get the paperwork signed and get him out of here. We've got a long journey ahead of us."

Sanders produced parchments which he and Eldredge reviewed, signing each of them.

Then Eldredge turned to the two burly Aurors who had arrived on the extra large broom.

"Wilkins, Lovullo, secure the prisoner and prepare for take-off," he told them.

His two subordinates nodded and advanced to where Whitney stood next to Ethan Exham. The prisoner looked up at them, eyes dull, no longer manic but seemingly dazed.

"Come now, Exham," said one of the Aurors. "Let's do this nice and quick. Lovullo, take his right side."

The prisoner's eyes cleared as he looked at Wilkins. "A pox o' your throat, you bawling, blasphemous, incharitable dog!" he shouted, but he didn't struggle as his new guards led him to the the oversized broom.

"Down you go," Wilkins said as he and Lovullo lowered Exham over the broom. Lovullo raised his wand, spoke a spell and magical ropes bound the prisoner to the broom.

"Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart that's sorry yet for thee," Exham said.

Lovullo harrumphed. "Guess he's as mad as everyone says he is."

"All right, let's get under way," Eldredge said. The aurors mounted their brooms. Wilkins sat forward of Exham with Lovullo at the rear of the large broom.

"On my mark," Eldredge called. "Good night, gentlemen. One, two, three...lift off!"

The Americans rose from the cold ground of Azkaban and swooped off into the night. Sanders and Whitney watched them go.

"I still say it's a fool's errand," Sanders said. "Better them than me, though."

"Aye," Whitney agreed with a shiver. "Well, let's get back inside."

†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††

The prisoner transport flew on through the night, mostly passing over ocean waters. Only a brief fly-over of the Scottish Highlands interrupted their travel over the sea for many hours. Daylight came, but there was nowhere for the Aurors to alight, so they pressed on.

Occasionally their prisoner would mutter or shout some epithet, but his guards paid no heed; indeed, it's doubtful they even heard his outbursts.

Crossing the Atlantic on brooms wasn't routine for anyone; it was just over 60 years since the intrepid Jocunda Sykes had made the first trans-oceanic passage. Even with top flight brooms, the Aurors steered a great circle over the North Atlantic so that they could stop at several points: first on the slopes of an Icelandic volcano, next on the southern tip of Greenland, then near L'Anse aux Meadows in Newfoundland where the Vikings had settled a thousand years earlier.

At each stop the Aurors stretched their legs, had a brief meal and allowed their prisoner to do the same. On the foggy morning when they alighted on the northern tip of Newfoundland, a tawny owl flew up to Eldredge carrying a small parchment. The Squad Leader unrolled the note, read it and whistled in surprise.

"Would you look at this?" he told Wilkins as the latter munched on a bit of cake. "We're lucky we took Exham when we did. Ministry of Magic fell to You-Know-Who later that day. Scrimgeour's dead."

Wilkins swore. "Any change in our plans?" he asked.

"Well, we're to make all possible speed to Autongamon," Eldredge said. "As if we weren't doing that already. Says here to maintain high alert."

"Again, already done," Wilkins added. "You don't think anyone would try to take him?"

"We've not been followed, I can tell you that," Eldredge said as he wrote a brief reply and tied it to the owl's leg. The bird flew off into the gray dawn. "We should probably worry as much about the weather as an ambush."

The lead Auror didn't seem to notice that his prisoner had been watching the conversation intently. Exham had seemed barely conscious for most of the flight, occasionally lapsing into what his captors took to be random gibberish.

As Lovullo and Wilkins bound him to the transport broom once again, Exham muttered, "He's back! Sleep no more! Sleep no more!"

The next leg of the trip saw the Aurors crossing the Canadian Maritimes; as they did so, the weather conditions deteriorated, just as Eldredge had foreseen. At first, gentle swirls of breeze from the southwest brought a light mist that turned to drizzle.

By the time they'd reached the Bay of Fundy, their brooms were buffeted by gale force winds, accompanied by rain that drove into them like grapeshot. Far below them, muggle fishermen hurried into their harbors and ferries were ordered to stay in port.

Suddenly the broom riders flew out of the downpour into a calm, clear sky. Eldredge and the others looked around them. Their prisoner was wide awake, white-faced and frightened into apparent sanity.

"There's an island down there," Eldredge shouted to the others as he pointed ahead to the far edge of the calm area. "Inhabited by wizards, if I'm not wrong. Make for that!"

So they flew towards the island, reducing their altitude as they went. But the storm continued in their direction and before they reached their goal, the island was enveloped in cloud and rain.

"Steady on!" Eldredge yelled. "Follow me!"

But as he spoke, a tremendous bolt of lightning crashed through the midst of the party, splitting the transport broom in two. Lovullo managed to steady the rear remnant of the broom, but Wilkins, who'd been at the front, tumbled off and flailed helplessly. Eldredge quickly dove and caught his colleague before he plunged into the sea.

Ethan Exham, still bound to the broken broom, fell straight down into the raging waves. The Aurors caught a glimpse of him struggling vainly against his straight jacket and they heard one last, crazed utterance, "Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!" The next moment Exham disappeared below the surface and a tremendous gust of wind blew his guards far from his entry point.

They managed to fly down to the island Eldredge had spied from afar.

Alighting, Eldredge threw his broom down on the pebbled shore and swore.

"Damn! There'll be hell to pay when we get back," he said. His stunned companions nodded and stared out at the roiling sea that had swallowed up their captive.


	2. Chapter 2: a Question of Names

Chapter Two:

A Question of Names

Ethan Lloyd appeared to be a typical American teenage boy. He slept late during summer vacation, he liked nothing better than hanging out with his friends, and he didn't always get along with his parents. But below the surface of his ordinary life, Ethan was quite unlike his peers.

For one thing, he often slept late because he'd been up until the early morning hours doing homework. When he was with his friends, Ethan had to avoid telling them anything about his life at school. While his friends' parents nagged their children about eating their vegetables or cleaning their rooms, Ethan's parents harassed their son about far more serious matters.

For Ethan was an altogether normal thirteen-year-old, except for the fact that he was a wizard and was home on summer vacation from Kaaterskill Academy of Magic. He lived with his mother, a witch, and his father, a wizard, in a small bungalow on the east side of Madison, Wisconsin. He had learned of his magical abilities just two years earlier, when an owl had brought him an invitation to attend Kaaterskill on the day he turned eleven. Only then had he discovered that his parents had exiled themselves from the wizarding world to escape from a war between the magical authorities and the dark wizard Voldemort and his American lieutenant, Hafgan.

In his first two years at Kaaterskill, Ethan had already frustrated Hafgan's plans twice. First he had prevented Hafgan from obtaining a talisman that controlled an ancient monster. Then last year, he had prevented Hafgan's younger self from escaping from a self-portrait. His childhood friends in Madison had no idea that he was a wizard, let alone that he'd narrowly escaped death several times in the two years he'd been away at school. When Ethan was home for the summer, his parents tried, not terribly successfully, to keep his life as normal as possible.

On this Saturday morning, Ethan had staggered down to breakfast around nine after a late night revising a summer essay for his History of Magic professor.

As he poured himself some orange juice, Ethan saw that his father was reading the wizarding newspaper, the _Daily Sentinel_.

"Good lord!" Griffin Lloyd exclaimed as he read the front page of the _Daily__Sentinel_ over his breakfast. His wife and son looked at him questioningly. Mungo, the ancient family cat, looked up from the floor at his master and the fur on his neck stood straight up.

"What is it, dear?" Diana Lloyd asked. "Haven't we had enough happen this week already?"

Indeed, just a few days earlier the paper had told of the assassination of the British Minister of Magic at the hands of his most trusted subordinates. According to the _Daily Sentinel_, the assassins had themselves been killed in a battle with the head of Magical Law Enforcement, who had then been installed as Minister of Magic.

Griffin handed her the paper. "Read that," he said weakly, pointing to the lead story. "I can't believe it."

Diana's face went white as she read the story under the headline, "_Traitor__Exham__Lost__at__Sea__—__Prisoner__Transport__Struck__by__Hurricane_."

Ethan craned his neck to see what news had caused such consternation. He saw a photograph of a crazy-looking man with long, greasy, blondish hair, rolling his eyes and laughing uncontrollably.

Observing his parents' reaction to the _Daily _Sentinel, Ethan recognized a break in their facade of normalcy.

"_Ethan Exham_," Ethan read over his mother's shoulder. "C_onvicted of betraying fellow Aurors sixteen years ago, is missing and presumed drowned off the coast of Maine. Exham was being transferred from Azkaban to Autongamon when __his escort ran into a fierce hurricane. The prisoner, bound to a broom that was split in two by the storm, fell into the Gulf of Maine. His escort was unable to rescue the notorious convict. Readers will recall that Exham was convicted of passing information on joint American-British Auror operations to Death Eaters during the war with You-Know-Who_."

"OK, so who was this Exham?" Ethan asked his parents. "Someone you knew?"

"Oh, yes, we knew him," Griffin said. "Or we thought we did."

"Ethan Exham was your father's best friend from the moment they arrived at Kaaterskill," Diana added. "Best man at our wedding. Looking back now, I guess he was already a mole then."

"When we got back from Table Mountain, Exham was the first one to meet us," Griffin said. "Escorted us to Kaaterskill, though he wanted us to go back to Washington."

"We didn't know he was a spy until years later," Griffin continued. "He hadn't been discovered when we went underground. It's still difficult for me to accept, but the evidence was convincing."

Ethan looked at the photo again, then at his parents.

"So, he's called Ethan," he said. "And he was your best friend. Does that mean...?"

"As your father said, we didn't hear any wizarding news until after you were born," Diana said. "We didn't know anything about his treachery."

"You named _me _after _him_?" Ethan finished his question incredulously.

Griffin shrugged.

"I can't believe it!" Ethan exclaimed. "You named your son after a notorious criminal."

"Well, when we found out, it was far too late to change your name," Griffin said. "Besides, at this point I'd say he's lucky to have a namesake like you; it's much more than he deserved, really."

"And now he's dead, so it's all moot, anyway," Diana said. "It's so sad to think about what he was like in school, then look at that picture and realize what he'd become-and think about how he died."

"Well, I think maybe you _should_ have kept up with the news back then," Ethan said, glaring at his parents. "I think I'll see what Pete's up to."

"He might be sleeping late," his mother said. "Call first and see."

So Ethan picked up the phone and called his friend and neighbor Pete Abrams. Pete's dad picked up and reported that Pete was still snoring in his darkened bedroom. Ethan managed to remain polite until he hung up the phone, but then he let go a groan of frustration.

"I guess I'll go read for awhile," he grumbled to no one in particular.

He stalked upstairs with orange juice in hand. In his room, he set the juice on the nightstand and flopped onto the bed. On the other side of the room, near the window, stood Ethan's easel. A talented artist, he had sketched and painted a lot this summer. He'd done a magical portrait of his parents and he'd painted Pete Abrams, with non-magical paints, as a birthday present.

Ethan's own birthday was just a few weeks after his friend's and his room was full of his presents. On the wall opposite hung the Yid Vicious poster that Justin Spencer-Black had given him for his birthday. Pete had given him a book about the Wisconsin Badgers football team. On the chair at his desk lay several items of clothing, birthday presents from his parents that he had not yet worn.

Ethan had also received presents from his schoolmates, but these he had stashed under his bed so that his Madison friends didn't see them. Now he reached down and pulled a small hardbound book, _Tales of the North River_, by one Diedrich Knickerbocker. Peter Powles, one of Ethan's housemates at Kaaterskill, had sent the book.

"I thought these might interest you," Peter had written. You've probably only heard of one of these stories. I grew up with them, so I don't really need them written down anymore."

The book was filled with tales that wizarding parents had read their children for two centuries. Since Ethan's parents had raised him in the Muggle world, they were new to him. The stories included "Madame Ten Broeck's Cauldron of Regrets," "The Tale of the Three Scholars and the Ferryman," and the story that interested Ethan most, "The Tale of the Phantom Ship."

Most of the stories were rather dark and few had truly happy endings. Although Ethan found them fascinating, he imagined that generations of wizarding children must have had nightmares after their parents had read Knickerbocker's tales to them at bedtime.

Ethan knew that there was a kernel of truth in at least one of Knickerbocker's tales. There had been a real Phantom Ship and Ethan had helped end its long voyage the previous year when he heeded a warning from its captain. In Knickerbocker's version, anyone who saw the Phantom Ship was doomed to an early death. Ethan now knew that to be an embellishment for dramatic effect, but he wondered how accurate the chronicler's other stories might be. In "The Three Scholars and the Ferryman," the protagonists try to cross the Hudson only to wind up in a hellish netherworld because they paid the ferryman too soon. _Did this story have a basis in fact too?_ Ethan wondered.

He'd just begun to re-read that story when the phone rang and his mother called up to say that Pete was awake. He hurried downstairs and out of the house without a word to his parents. They shared a worried look as he went.

Next door, Ethan found Pete Abrams sitting on his front porch, wolfing down a late breakfast and looking groggy. Though only a few weeks older than Ethan, Pete was already several inches taller and broad in the shoulders.

"Hey, Ethan," Pete said. "What's up? What do you want to do today?"

Ethan sat on the porch railing and kicked his feet together.

"I dunno, want to bike down to Law Park and hang out for awhile?" he asked.

"Sounds good to me," Pete replied. "Why don't I bring a frisbee along?"

A half-hour later, the two boys were tossing the frisbee on the lawn along the lake near Monona Terrace. The day was nearly perfect. Bright sun shone down on the city, but there was a cool breeze, unusual for August.

After a time they took a break, leaning against one of the many trees within the narrow strip of green between the lake and the highway. Pete suggested that they get something to eat, so they biked to a nearby convenience store, where Ethan got some chips, a soda and a comic book. They rode further down the bike path to a slightly hilly section of the park. They sat with their backs against a large tree and gazed out over the calm water towards their neighborhood on the opposite shore.

The boys talked about sports and movies – they'd seen _Men in Black_ a few weeks earlier and Pete was now obsessed with alien fighters. Ethan had enjoyed the movie, but he felt slightly uncomfortable with his friend's interest in super-secret agents blasting extraterrestrials. Ethan thought of his own secret life and wondered what Pete would think of wizards and witches wielding wands and casting spells. Would his friend associate the world of magic with the film's heroes or with the aliens infiltrating Earth?

"What do you think of that?" Ethan heard Pete ask, and he realized that he'd zoned out Pete completely for a minute or two.

"Sorry, I must have been daydreaming," Ethan said. "What were you talking about?"

Pete gave him a mock look of disdain; he was used to his friend's tendency to get lost in thought.

"I was just asking what you thought about Ryan Morgan asking Heather Petersen out?" Pete repeated.

"Isn't she older?" Ethan asked. For the first time this summer, Ethan's friends were showing an interest in girls and he found it just a bit weird.

"Yeah, she's gonna be in 9th grade this year," Pete said. "She's best friends with Ryan's sister."

"Well, if that's what he wants, more power to him," Ethan said. "Do you think he has a chance with her?"

"I heard he already asked her to see a movie with him, and she said yes," Pete continued. "It's gonna be a pain if he starts spending all his time with Heather. With you being gone during school too, it just won't be the same."

"Guess not," Ethan said. "I guess nothing ever stays the same for long."

Strangely, Pete's speculation about Ryan's budding relationship only served to deepen Ethan's unease about his life had changed in the past two years.

"Ethan," Pete said, this time in a whisper. "Do you see that man over by the pavilion? He's been looking at us ever since we got here."

Ethan tried to look nonchalant as he turned towards the park pavilion. He caught a quick glimpse of someone peering around a column in their direction. The man was dressed in ragged clothes, his face covered with a stubbly beard and it didn't look like he'd bathed in a long time. Ethan looked back at Pete.

"Just looks like some sort of homeless guy," he said, but something about the man seemed familiar to Ethan He turned back for a second look, but the ragged man was gone.

Ethan realized why the man had looked familiar: he looked a lot like the man his parents had been reading about in the _Daily Sentinel_ that morning.

Ethan was pondering how that could be when suddenly a ragged figure loomed up from behind the tree, a rag tied around his head. He looked as if he'd been out in the rain; he limped towards the boys, shivering and glaring madly at Ethan.

"You young dog," said the man, "what fat cheeks you've got. I must speak with you."

Pete jumped up and away from the tree. Ethan froze for a moment, transfixed by the look in the tramp's eyes, at once fearful and crazed. The man reached his thin arms towards Ethan.

"Ethan, let's get out of here!" Pete shouted and Ethan slid away from the man's outstretched arms. They grabbed their things, mounted their bikes and began riding away.

As they went, the man shouted, "When shall we three meet again?"

They were nearly out of earshot when Ethan thought he heard the man bellow, "Ethan Lloyd! Come back!"

Pete shot his friend a sharp look as they reached the bike path. "Do you know that guy?" he asked breathlessly.

"No! Just keep riding!" Ethan told him.

Twenty minutes later, Ethan and Pete rode into the Abrams front yard, where Pete's dad was trimming a hedge.

"Hullo, boys!" Mr. Abrams greeted them, then looked at them quizzically. They were pale and out of breath. "Being chased by aliens again?"

"No, Dad," Pete said seriously. "There was some bum down in Law Park bothering us, though. He tried to grab Ethan." He looked at his friend. "Didn't he call your name?"

Ethan blushed. "I don't know. It sounded like it, but I've never seen him before. It was weird."

Mr. Abrams demeanor changed. "We'd better report this to the police," he said. "If there's some unbalanced, homeless man attacking children, they need to know."

"I just want to go home," Ethan said wearily. "I'll tell my parents."

"Very well," Pete's father said. "I'll call to check in with your folks later."

"See you later, Pete," Ethan said as he headed next door to his own house.

"See ya, Ethan," said Pete, still looking confused and shaken.

Ethan was equally confused, but he didn't really want to talk to his parents about the incident. He opened the door quietly and surveyed the living room; it was empty. He tried to sneak up to his room, but as he reached the fourth step, his mother called from the kitchen, "Is that you Ethan?"

"Yes, mom," he answered reluctantly.

"How was your day at the park?" she asked. "Come down for a moment before you disappear."

He shuffled into the kitchen.

"Are you alright?" Diana asked him. "I made your favorite chocolate chip cookies."

"Yeah, I'm OK," Ethan replied, grabbing a cookie. "Thanks, mom."

"Don't you want to offer Pete some cookies?" his mom asked. "He's as crazy for these as you."

"Oh, he had to go home," Ethan said.

"How'd you tear your shirt?" Diana asked him as she looked him over. "Did you get into a fight?"

"No, mom," Ethan answered. "But...there was this man bothering us over by the pavilion."

"What do you mean, bothering you? One of the homeless men? Did he attack you?"

"No, I wouldn't say he attacked me...I mean, I don't know. Pete saw him staring at us and then all of a sudden he was trying to grab me," Ethan told her reluctantly. He wished he could just forget about it. But he knew that his parents would find out from Pete's dad if he didn't tell them himself.

"We'd better call the police, so this doesn't happen to anyone else," she said.

"That's what Mr. Abrams said, too," Ethan told her. "But...mom, he knew my name. I don't think he was just harassing any kid who happened by."

Diana Lloyd gave Ethan a look of concern bordering on panic at these words. She said nothing, however.

Ethan looked at her for a moment, then continued, "I know I've never met the guy. I only got a quick look, but I think I've seen his picture before."

"Where?" Diana asked.

"In this morning's _Daily Sentinel_," he said slowly. "He looked like that guy who just died. You know, that Exham."

Diana's face went very pale. "But that's impossible," she whispered.

"I know," Ethan said. "But that's what I saw. And he did call my name, mom. Pete heard it too."

"Whoever it was, that's not good," his mother said. "When your father gets back from the store, we'll need to have a serious discussion. Until then, please stay inside."

Ethan hadn't planned on roaming the neighborhood, but he found his mother's admonition sobering. He knew that there were complex spells on their house, his parents' workplaces and the routes the Lloyds frequented in Madison, that prevented wizards from finding them.

If the tramp was a Muggle, of course, the spells wouldn't affect him. _But what if I'm right and that __**was**__ Exham_, Ethan thought to himself. _He's a wizard and he won't be able to find me in this neighborhood. _He realized that he'd never really thought about how the protective enchantments worked. Would a wizard not see their house at all? If he was playing soccer with Pete in the yard, would his friend appear to be kicking the ball to an invisible companion? Had Ethan already unwittingly exposed Pete to the wizarding world? Could the tramp get at Ethan through Pete? _Too many questions with no answers_, he thought.

Ethan picked up his copy of _Tales of the North River _and read "The Tale of the Three Scholars and the Ferryman." After about an hour, Ethan's father returned. Ethan shoved the book under his bed again and headed downstairs before his parents called him.

As they sat in the living room, Griffin asked his son to recount again the story of his encounter in the park.

When Ethan was done, his father looked thoughtful for a long moment, then asked "How sure are you that this tramp was the man you saw in the _Sentinel_?"

"Pretty sure, dad," Ethan answered. "Especially when he was up close, even though everything else was a blur. And like I told mom, he knew my name; Pete heard that too. Nothing else he said made any sense."

Griffin looked at Ethan, then at Diana, and said, "Well, I don't think we need to call the police."

"I was afraid you'd say that," Ethan commented. "You think it was that old friend of yours?"

"I'm not sure I do," his father said. "But I don't think it's just a Muggle tramp, either. It doesn't feel like that."

"Well, what are you going to do about him, then?" Ethan asked.

"I think we'll sleep on that. There should be no immediate danger here," his father answered. "By the way, Ethan, you've had two owls in the last ten minutes."

Ethan wasn't entirely reassured by his father's assessment of the incident at the park, but he eagerly accepted the two rolls of parchment his mother handed him.

One was from his classmate Tim Van der Meulen, who lived on a wheat farm in Saskatchwan with his family. His note was short but welcome. "Tim's mom wants to drive him out here next week," Ethan said. "And guess what? His little brother Will got his Kaaterskill letter! He's coming too."

Griffin and Diana exchanged a look that Ethan could not read.

"What's the other one?" his mother asked.

Ethan unrolled the second parchment. "It's from Anne," he reported. "She wants me to come visit her before school. And she says to bring Tim and Will along. Can we do it?"

His parents looked at each other again, then at Ethan.

"Yeah, I think that would be a really good idea," Griffin said.

"Thanks, Dad!" Ethan exclaimed, happily surprised, forgetting his worries about the tramp in the park for the moment.

But when he fell asleep that night, Ethan dreamed that he and Tim were traveling to Anne's home. Strangely, Pete Abrams was with them. When they reached the shore and saw the Findlays' island before them, the three boys boarded a ferryboat that was moored to the shore. The boat appeared to set off by magic, but half-way across the hooded ferryman loomed up at them, demanding payment.

"The price is fixed, boys," he growled. "You must pay me now or you'll not reach the far shore!"

Tim and Pete urged him to refuse, but Ethan found himself pulling a galleon out of his pocket and handing it to the ferryman. The man threw his hood back and Ethan jumped back in horror at the mad face of the convict Exham, convulsed in crazed laughter. Ethan felt the scene dissolve before him as he was drawn into a spinning vortex of nothingness, the ferryman's laugh filling his ears. He awoke, shaking and sweating, and didn't fall asleep again for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3: The Portkey Down East

Chapter Three:

The Portkey Down East

When he awoke the next morning, Ethan remembered his dream. That was a bit unusual; although he frequently had vivid dreams, they usually vanished like wisps of fog in the sun when he tried to remember details. He told himself that it was nothing more than a random melange of the confused thoughts that had occupied his dreams the previous evening. Exham's ravaged face in the newspaper, the incident with the tramp, Pete's involvement and the promise of traveling with Tim to Findlay's Island had all merged with Knickerbocker's fantasy about the ferryman. Complicated, Ethan thought, but that had to be the explanation. He kept the dream to himself.

The ensuing week passed in a blur of activity and anticipation for Ethan. He sent owls back to both Tim and Anne confirming the itinerary. He told Alec Evans, a Madison neighbor who would be starting his second year at Kaaterskill, about his plans. Ethan had found Alec to be a major annoyance before and during their previous year at school, but he no longer felt that way. Alec had faced Hafgan's younger self and the monstrous _Michi-Pichoux_ with Ethan at the end of the school year. That experience changed them both and Ethan had gained a new appreciation of Alec's courage. Griffin talked to Alec's mother, a Muggle, and she agreed that Alec would go with Ethan, Will and Tim to Anne's on the way to school.

Ethan didn't know how they would all get to the Findlays' home on an isolated island off the coast of Maine. His first two years at school had begun with a railway journey from Chicago on the Hoboken Limited. He didn't know whether or not Anne took a train from her home to Hoboken to meet the school steamboat, but in any case he guessed it would be a lengthy and complicated journey from Madison to Findlay's Island.

Another week passed before the Van der Meulens' mini-van pulled up in front of 12 Jenifer Street. Ethan had been waiting eagerly on the front stoop and he leapt up as Tim stepped onto the sidewalk.

"Good to see you, man!" he exclaimed.

"Good to see you, too," Tim rejoined as he shook Ethan's hand. Tim had been broad-shouldered and stocky ever since Ethan had met him and he seemed to have grown a few more inches since the end of school in June.

A boy with strawberry-blonde hair that fell in straight bangs over his forehead sprang out of the back seat. Although not as sturdily-built as Tim, he had nearly identical green eyes.

"Ethan, this is my...," Tim began only to be interrupted.

"Hi, Ethan, I'm Will, Will van der Meulen, pleased to meet you!" Tim's brother said excitedly.

"Pleased to meet you, too, Will," Ethan replied.

"You guys want to bring your stuff in? Tim, you're with me, Will gets the couch in my dad's study."

Ethan helped the brothers haul in their trunks, owl cages and assorted other luggage while Mrs. Van der Meulen renewed acquaintances with Ethan's parents.

Will peppered Ethan with questions about the wizarding world in general, quidditch and Kaaterskill in particular. At first, Ethan was reminded of the way Alec Evans had harassed him for information the previous summer, but something about Will's manner was different. He was curious but almost wary about the world he was about to enter.

Over lunch in front of the television – the adults stayed in the kitchen – Will spoke of the arrival of his Kaaterskill letter.

"When Tim got his letter, Professor Bancroft delivered it in person, eh?" he said. "Had to convince my parents that it wasn't some kind of hoax. The owl just dropped mine on the porch in the middle of our big family breakfast on my birthday. Nobody seemed very surprised."

"Well, they'd been looking for the signs for the last two years," Tim interjected. "Ever since I went to school. And there were plenty of signs, after all."

"Yeah, Mom and Dad pretty much knew, especially after I bounced out of the way of the combine last fall," Will continued. "But when I was opening the letter, I saw the way they looked at each other – almost fearful."

"I thought they were proud of you," Tim told him.

"I know they are," Will replied. "But that look told me they're afraid – not of me or Tim—but they know enough to have figured out that magic can be dangerous."

Ethan had listened with quiet interest; now he spoke.

"They're right, of course," he said. "My parents know first-hand. Sometimes I'm surprised they let me go to Kaaterskill at all."

"Well, Mom and Dad may not know everything, but they've figured out Tim's gotten into some pretty tight spots," Will said. "Of course, they also know he's doing really well in school and that he's on the quidditch team."

Tim laughed. "Yeah, they may not really understand what quidditch is, but they're really proud of that – to them it's the same as being on the hockey team."

Will added, "That's what they tell the neighbors, that he's on his school hockey team. I don't know if they substitute on purpose or whether there's some spell that changes the word "quidditch" into "hockey" when they talk to muggles."

He looked at Ethan and his tone turned serious again. "But really, there's practically a war going on, isn't there? And you two have been a part of it, haven't you? Tim told me – you're lucky to be alive."

"Yeah, you could say that," Ethan admitted. "But it's not like I go looking for trouble. The trouble seems to find me on its own."

"So I can hardly avoid it, either, can I?" Will asked, a mix of excitement and apprehension in his voice.

"I suppose not," Ethan said thoughtfully. "Though I'd say most kids at Kaaterskill just go about their schoolwork oblivious of what's going on in the world."

"They won't be able to ignore it much longer," Tim said ominously. "All they have to do is read the papers."

The three boys fell silent and finished up their sandwiches. Then Tim changed the subject.

"So, how are we getting to Anne's?" he asked. "Is there a train?"

"Or do we have to fly there on brooms?" Will wondered aloud.

"Neither, as far as I can tell," Ethan told them. "But Dad's being very mysterious about it. He said it could wait until you'd arrived."

As it turned out, they waited a bit longer. It wasn't until after Virjean van der Meulen headed back to Saskatchewan that Griffin Lloyd told the boys how they would get to the Findlays'. It had been a solemn farewell for the van der Meulens; Virjean made Tim promise to look out for Will at Kaaterskill.

"I'll do my best, Mom," Tim tried to assure her. "I can't guarantee he'll never get into trouble, though."

That night, Alec Evans joined them for dinner. To Ethan's amusement, Alec had evidently decided to take Will under his wing and spent most of the evening offering advice and encouragement to Tim's brother.

After dinner, Griffin finally revealed their travel plans.

"I'm going to send your trunks and owls ahead," he told them. "Then, day after tomorrow, we'll all travel by portkey to Maine. I'll just stay long enough to get you settled and I'll head right back."

"Umm, Dad, what's a portkey?" Ethan asked, but Tim answered before Griffin could reply.

"A portkey's any object that has been charmed to transport people from one place to another," he said. "It's done with the _Portus_ charm."

"Yes, exactly," Griffin confirmed. "Usually some very ordinary object is used, so as not to draw too much attention from muggles."

Ethan arched his brows. "How is it you know this?" he asked Tim.

Will laughed. "Haven't you figured out yet? Tim knows everything – at least everything worth knowing."

"No, I don't," Tim replied in an aggrieved tone. "But that's right in _The Magical Transportation Revolution_; I read it for Bancroft last year for the extra-credit project. But, Mr. Lloyd, how is it you're getting a portkey?"

"Well, back when I was an Auror, we all learned to create portkeys," Griffin told him. "It's dead useful in Auror work."

"But don't you have to be authorized by the Division of Magical Transportation?" Tim persisted.

"Well, Cyrus Flyte pulled a few strings at the Department level, I'm told," Griffin said, a bit hesitantly. "Apparently they think it's a good idea to send you to school via Maine; they didn't even demand my address in return."

Mungo, the Lloyds' ancient cat, had entered the room and was moving from person to person, rubbing against everyone's legs in turn. He stopped before Griffin, lay down and gazed up at Ethan's father.

"Mungo doesn't know whether to be irritated or proud...I've chosen an old food dish of his for the portkey," Griffin said, reaching down to stroke the cat's head.

"A pet food dish can take all of us from here to Maine?" Will asked incredulously.

"If you do the spell right," Griffin said. "Which I have. At precisely 5:30 in the morning, day after tomorrow, we'll be on our way."

"5:30, Dad? Couldn't it be later?" Ethan asked with a groan.

"Well, we don't want the neighbors to notice," Griffin explained. "Besides, you'll probably have plenty of time to catch up on your rest after you get to Findlay's Island."

The next day, Pete Abrams and Justin Spencer-Black joined Ethan, Alec and the van der Meulen brothers in a game of 3-on-3 soccer at the park. Initially, Tim teamed with the two muggle boys, but the three of them overpowered Ethan, Alec and Will. The van der Meulens switched sides and the remainder of the game was pretty even.

No magic – unintentional or otherwise – was performed during their game or at the frozen custard stand afterwards, much to Ethan's relief. Ethan told Pete and Justin that he and the other boys were going to Maine for a camping trip sponsored by their school.

"O'Keefe doesn't do anything like that," Pete complained. "But we do get to elect the Student Council President this year."

"Yeah," Justin laughed. "Eighth Grade...we're the big kids this year! Ryan says Heather told him he should run for President."

"Well, if Heather said so, you know he'll do it," Pete rolled his eyes as he contemplated the new obsession of their absent friend.

"We're just third-years, with four classes ahead of us," Tim said. "I don't think we rate at all."

"Well, compared to Alec and me, you'll rank higher," Will pointed out.

Pete seemed to have completely forgotten the incident with the tramp in Law Park, which still figured occasionally in Ethan's dreams. The whole affair had apparently washed right out of Pete's mind. Ethan suspected that his father had cast a memory charm on his friend; he had no proof, but the possibility bothered him. But as they all walked back to Jenifer Street, any passerby would have seen six completely unremarkable youngsters and Ethan was happy to to blend in.

They split up in front of the Abrams' bungalow. Ethan had told Ryan and Pete that they'd be leaving early the next morning, so they said their goodbyes.

"Have a good time," Pete had told him. "Don't get eaten by a bear."

"And if you do, make sure you get a picture," Justin added with a grin.

Alec headed home to retrieve his trunk and owl. Tim, Will and Ethan headed into the Lloyds' house.

"All well, boys?" Griffin asked from his armchair. "Finish up your packing...as soon as Alec brings his stuff I'm going to send your luggage along to Maine."

Upstairs, Will turned to the guest room; Tim joined Ethan in his room.

As they stuffed the last few books and knick-knacks into their trunks, Tim asked, "So what made your dad decide to send you and the rest of us off to Maine, Ethan? You've both been pretty mysterious about it all. Last year, it took Alec's accidental magic to convince him to send us to your uncle's. What's happened this summer?"

"I wondered when you'd get around to asking," Ethan admitted.

"I wanted to ask when Will was out of the way," Tim said. "Which hasn't exactly happened often."

"All right, then," Ethan shrugged and told the story. "I thought Pete might bring it up, but he doesn't even seem to remember it happened."

"I read about that convict in the _Sentinel_," Tim recalled. "Do you really think he survived and found his way to Madison?"

"It seems unlikely," Ethan said. "But I know what I saw." He'd not mentioned the convict's name, wishing to downplay any connection between Exham and his family.

"So your parents are trying to send you as far away from Madison as they can," Tim surmised. "How convenient that Anne invited us to visit."

"Aren't you two done yet?" Will called in from the hall. Ethan and Tim dropped their conversation, closed up their trunks and lugged them downstairs, returning for their owls. There they found that Alec had delivered his trunk and owl. When Ethan and Tim added their luggage to the pile, Griffin motioned the boys to stand back. Pointing his wand at the mass of luggage and said, "_Mittere truncus ad Findlay's Island_." All four trunks vanished instantly. Aiming his wand at the owl cages, he repeated the spell, "_Mittere noctuis ad Findlay's Island_" and they disappeared as well.

None of the boys slept well that night, anticipating the coming journey. It seemed to Ethan that he'd just fallen asleep when Diana woke them around 4:30 the next morning. The boys dressed quickly and ate breakfast in a stupor. About 5:15, Alec arrived with his mother, who looked more apprehensive than groggy.

"Rachel, can I get you some coffee?" Diana asked. Alec's mom nodded.

"They'll be fine, try not to worry," Diana tried to reassure Rachel as she handed her a mug.

"OK, boys, it's time to go out and get ready," Griffin said. "The portkey's in the backyard."

Diana grabbed a flashlight and led them out past Ethan's old swing. A battered old pet food dish shone in the beams.

"Now, when I give the word, grab the edge of the bowl, all of you," Griffin told them.

Ethan knelt down on the grass, Tim on one side, Alec on the other. Will was on his knees next to his brother. Griffin gave Diana a quick kiss and said, "I'll be back soon." Then he settled down between Will and Alec. There was barely room for all of them around the dish.

Griffin looked at his watch. At precisely 5:30, he exclaimed, "Now! Everyone take hold."

Ethan reached for the dish, which now glowed bright blue, and placed his hand over the edge. Instantly he felt his insides jerked backwards as if someone had placed a hook behind his navel; the room disappeared into a blur. He heard a sound that might have been his own yell, but it was lost in a noise like a rushing waterfall. He could only vaguely discern his fellow travelers around him. After an indeterminate length of time, the rushing stopped and he landed roughly on the ground. He let go of the dish and tried to stand up, only to tumble over onto Alec.

"It may take a few minutes to get your legs back," Griffin told them as he put the old bowl into a satchel. "Take your time."

The other three boys wore a variety of expressions. Alec looked green and nauseous. Will looked ill and enraptured simultaneously. Tim looked thoughtful, but dizzy. Ethan felt closer to the way Alec looked.

As the spinning in his head slowed, Ethan looked around and saw that they were in a field between a stand of tall pine trees and a rocky beach. Waves lapped rhythmically against the shore. The summer sun was big and orange above the eastern horizon.

Ethan noticed movement near the trees. A broad-shouldered man with flaming red hair and a bushy beard, wearing a red flannel shirt, approached them.

"Welcome to Findlay's Island! Glad to see you made it safely," the man said. "Griffin Lloyd! How long has it been, friend?"

"Too long, you know that, Matt," Ethan's dad answered. "Boys, this is Matthew Findlay, your host for the next few days."

Findlay looked them over. "First portkey for all of you, I see," he said. Shaking hands with Ethan, he continued, "You must be Ethan...I can see both your dad and mom in you."

Moving on, he said, "You must be Tim and that would make you Will. Welcome!" Turning to Alec, he shook his hand and said, "Which leaves Mr. Evans. Your trunks and owls are back at the house...and Anne's waiting for you there. Can you stay awhile, Griffin?"

Ethan's father looked at his watch. "I have about an hour, Matt. Just time to greet the family and have a quick chat."

"Well, let's get moving then," Findlay said, looking about cautiously and starting back toward the pines. "We'll want to get back in good time. You're not our only visitors."

"Oh?" Griffin asked.

"Aurors," Matt Findlay replied. "Third visit since they lost that damned prisoner out there." He gestured towards the sea. "Don't give us any warning they're coming, of course. Showed up about an hour ago. Damned nuisance."

Ethan was paying close attention now and he saw that Tim was also listening carefully. Will and Alec seemed oblivious, engaged in their own conversation about portkey travel.

"You mean that Exham guy?" Ethan asked, his voice betraying a degree of alarm.

"I see you've been reading those papers Anne sends you," Mr. Findlay said. "That's the one. Guess your father probably knows more about him than I."

Griffin looked over his shoulder nervously. "Those aurors worry me more than Exham, Matt. It could be unpleasant if they ran into me."

They were deep in the pines now. The summer sun slowly rose higher over the waters of Passamaquoddy Bay.

"We'll make sure that doesn't happen, Griffin." Findlay assured him. "They spend all their time out by the headland. That's where the storm blew Exham into the bay. Don't know what they think they might find at this point. Anyway, you have your return portkey with you?"

Griffin nodded.

"Well, then you can leave right from the house. They'll not be back for hours, if they stop at the house at all."

The party hiked through the woods silently, except for Alec and Will, who continued chattering earnestly at the rear. After fifteen minutes, they stepped out of the woods into a clearing. Ahead of them, atop a rocky knoll, stood the most unusual house Ethan had ever seen.

In fact, as he looked closer, Ethan had a hard time telling where the rock ended and the house began. A stone stair provided the necessary clue. It ended at a door that was painted gray to match the rock. From there, Ethan saw a wide straggle of windows to either side. Above, what had initially seemed a gradually narrowing hilltop turned out to be upper floors, also painted gray. Here and there a light was visible in roughly circular windows.

Having realized that the 'knoll' was for the most part a house, Ethan had to laugh at what topped the structure: a two story white frame house with a lighthouse attached, its beam rotating at regular intervals, visible even in the morning sun from this distance.

"Welcome to the Rock!" Matt Findlay exclaimed as they headed up the stairs. "I'm surprised Anne isn't here to greet you all."

At that the front door burst open and a girl with long red hair ran down to meet them.

"You're here!" Anne shouted as she reached them. She gave Tim, Ethan and Alec all quick hugs, then turned to Will.

"You must be Tim's brother!" she said as Will nodded. "I'm Anne." Turning to Griffin, she added, "And you're Ethan's dad. Pleased to meet you, sir."

Griffin laughed and said, "Yes, Griffin Lloyd, at your service."

Matt Findlay smiled at his daughter and said, "Well, I think our guests may still be a bit groggy. Let's go in, let them catch their breath and have a little breakfast."

The party trooped up the stairs and into the house, Anne hanging back with the boys.

"I know it's not much of a house," she said apologetically, "not compared to a farmhouse or...what did you call yours, Ethan...a bangalore?"

"Bungalow!" Ethan answered, laughing, as they entered a long room with large round windows opposite the door that looked out over the ocean. Halfway down the great room a large fireplace dominated the wall on the left. Various unmatched but comfortable-looking chairs were arranged around the fireplace. A long oaken table occupied the far end of the room near the windows. Across from the fireplace, an archway led to the kitchen. Hallways led off to right and left from the entrance; Ethan could see a stairway at the end of the left side hall. "And how could Tim's house or mine be more interesting than this?"

"Yeah, this is brilliant!" Tim exclaimed as he took in the room. Alec and Will just stared at the carved woodwork of the mantel and the ceiling moulding, silent for perhaps the first time all day.

Anne looked pleased. Her father said, "Well, why don't you have a seat at the table. 'Gin's about to serve some fresh muffins and coffee."

As they moved toward the table, a woman bustled in from the kitchen, levitating a tray of muffins in front of her with her wand while carrying a coffeepot in herp left hand. Her hair was as red as Matt's and Anne's; she smiled brightly though Ethan thought her face looked somewhat care-worn.

"Griffin Lloyd!" she exclaimed as she lowered the muffins onto the table and set down the coffee. "I wondered if we'd ever see you again!"

"Virginia!" Ethan's dad said and they shared a quick hug. "I'd always wanted to see where Matt had taken you! The boys are right; it is brilliant."

"Well, it's a wonderful house," Virginia said. "Matt's ancestors did most of the work, of course. Great place to raise kids. Though it is a bit quiet now that the boys are all grown up and Anne's off at school most of the time." She looked around the table wistfully. "So it will be great to have the house full of kids again for a few weeks!"

With a flick of her wand, she served each of them a muffin and a mug. "I'm assuming you young men are coffee drinkers?"

Ethan actually had almost never had coffee, but he was too polite to tell Mrs. Findlay. Tim and Will, it turned out, had started their caffeine habit early on the farm. Alec said nothing, but eyed his mug cautiously.

"Have some milk and sugar if you take it that way," Mrs. Findlay added, as a sugar bowl and cream pitcher materialized in the middle of the table. "Now, Griffin, do bring us up to date! How's Diana?"

Looking at his watch, Ethan's father replied, "Well, I've only a few minutes before I have to portkey back, but we're well. Diana's fine, she's become quite the entrepreneur at the grocery co-op. I know it will sound odd, but we've gotten pretty good at seeming to be muggles, which I guess is what Cyrus Flyte hope for all those years ago."

"Yeah, my mom and I had no idea they were wizards," Alec piped up. "Though Ethan never seemed quite normal."

"Thanks, Alec!" Ethan exclaimed in mock annoyance.

"Well, we certainly hear that the young Mr. Lloyd is far from ordinary, too," Matt Findlay said.

Now Ethan blushed. He was about to protest, when a whoosh of green flames filled the large fireplace. Everyone looked and to Ethan's amazement, a face appeared in the fireplace: the face of a young man with red hair and an earnest expression,

"Why Herschel, how nice of you to pop in," his mother exclaimed. "Care for a muffin?"

"Oh, hi Mom! No thanks, I've only got a moment. Good morning, Dad! I see your guests have arrived. Pleased to meet you all."

"What's up, son? We're not used to mid-morning floo visits from you," Mr. Findlay said.

"No, but I've got some news that won't wait," Herschel said. "I've just found out that another delegation is headed your way."

"Not more aurors!" his father groaned. "Can't they leave us in peace?"

"Not just aurors, Dad," Herschel continued. "The Secretary himself and some of his key deputies. Supposedly they're reviewing a site for the refugee processing camp on the mainland, but I have it on good authority that they know about the portkey and they'll be coming to the house in hopes of finding Mr. Lloyd there."

"That's news indeed," Matt Findlay replied. "Sounds like there are as many eavesdroppers in the Department now as there were the first time around. Anything else we should know?"

"That's it for now," Herschel said. "I've got to go before my boss gets suspicious. Good luck!"

With that, Herschel's face disappeared back into the fire and the green flames vanished.

Ethan gave his father a look of concern. He knew that his parents' rare journeys outside Madison carried some risk, as the wizarding authorities had always wanted to question them about their role in the Table Mountain affair years before Ethan's birth. But this was the first time he'd ever heard of any active attempt to intercept either of his parents.

Griffin appeared calm. "Well, Matt, 'Gin, it's almost time for my portkey back anyway. Is there a back room somewhere I can use for a moment?"

"Certainly," Mrs. Findlay said. "Anne, show Mr. Lloyd to the back pantry, will you?"

Griffin turned to the boys. "Have a good time here and a safe trip to school! And mind what Mr. & Mrs. Findlay tell you!" He gave Ethan a quick embrace.

"You'll be OK?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, yes, don't worry about me," Griffin said with a wry smile. "I'll not be meeting Mr. Dithers today! Be civil to the Secretary, Ethan; he's not a bad man, just a bureaucrat. Oh and be sure to thank Herschel for me when you have a chance, Matt." With that, Griffin pulled the portkey from his satchel and followed Anne through the kitchen. They disappeared through a doorway into the distant reaches of the house.

The remaining group sat tensely around the table. Moments later there came a loud crack outside, followed by a sharp knock on the door.

"That'll be them," Mr. Findlay said. "You kids leave the talking to Mrs. Findlay and me."

He opened the door and in stepped two burly wizards in black cloaks and dark glasses. They stepped to one side and were followed by a gray-haired, balding wizard in a bright plaid cloak.

Ethan looked at Anne. They had seen this wizard only a few months before in Mr. Beadle's dungeon apartment at Kaaterskill. But Ernest Dithers, Secretary of Magic, hadn't been aware of their presence at the time as they were wearing Ethan's amulet of invisibility.

"Mr. & Mrs. Findlay, please excuse the intrusion," Dithers said, his double chin vibrating as he spoke. "I was in the neighborhood on business with Mr. Barghest here and thought I'd pop in and pay my respects."

A tall, distinguished man in a purple cloak wearing a pince-nez came in behind the Secretary. Ethan knew Lothar Barghest as well, having met him in Old Solomon's Row while buying his school supplies before his first year at Kaaterskill. Barghest surveyed the room and spoke.

"Good to see you, Matthew. Hello, Virginia. I'm sorry, you already seem to have visitors," Barghest said smoothly. "And if it isn't young Mr. Lloyd, what a coincidence."

Barghest gestured towards Ethan. Dithers looked at Ethan and spoke.

"Very pleased to meet you, Mr. Lloyd. We've all heard about your, shall we say, exploits," the Secretary of Magic said. "But at the moment, I'd like a word with your father."


End file.
